


Only A Matter Of Time

by Hipsterpotomu5



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A few years in the future, Angst, Blood, F/F, Like its pretty brutal, Torture, fareeha is still cheeky even though she's getting tortured, overwatch has been reformed, probably not a sad ending, they're a little older now, you get the details
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hipsterpotomu5/pseuds/Hipsterpotomu5
Summary: Fareeha has been captured by Talon, and they want information on the watchpoint. After being tortured for a few hours, a new torturer arrives. He's...unconventional, to say the least. His behavior unnerves Fareeha, and she fears that she is in for much worse than it seems. Will she break under him?Angela is frantic trying to find Fareeha. After their arguement, Fareeha left for a mission, and went missing. Angela feels that it's her fault, that she is the reason Fareeha has been captured, or worse. But will she find Fareeha in time?For my sicko friend KarlieKlossyTitle song is Landmine by Three Days Grace





	1. Not Quite Right

**Author's Note:**

> Song for the chapter is So What by Three Days Grace
> 
> Next chapter will be have Angela in it

When the door opened again, Fareeha was focused on getting the strand of blood and saliva off of her chin. She decided she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. He would see no fear in her eyes, no pain on her face. Not that she could really see him that well anyway. Blood streamed steadily over her left eye, her right eye swollen from a punch. Her head did shoot to the door, though, when a new voice greeted her. “I swear to God, I work with complete fucking amateurs.” Indeed, from what Fareeha could see, this was not the same man who had been working her over for the past hour. Maybe Fareeha was a little loopy from too many blows to the head. This guy couldn’t be a torturer. He wore a nice buttondown shirt with a checkered print, tucked into...designer jeans? And was he wearing suede shoes? He apparently noticed Fareeha’s confusion at his feet, and looked down himself. “Oh, fuck me. I just got changed, I knew I was forgetting something. Put on the wrong pair of shoes.” Fareeha opened her mouth to say something, but a trail of blood rolled from her cheek into her mouth and she sputtered. She was too confused to get out any words, anyway. 

“Honestly, what did they do to you?” He walked over to her and grabbed her chin gently, tilting her head back. “Scalpel cuts on the cheeks and forehead.” He rolled his eyes. “How original.” He used his thumb to wipe the blood from the cut above her eye, temporarily stemming the flow over her eye. He wiped the blood from his thumb onto her arm, and frowned again. “And are those burn marks on your side?” He looked around the room, eyes falling on a battery with some jumper cables attached. The man sighed. “Did Gustav really have to take your shirt off? What a creep. At least he left your bra on. Still. Talk about a perv.” His eyes met Fareeha’s again, deep brown to match her own, and he smiled. “I’m Steve, by the way. Pleasure to meet you.” By this point, Fareeha’s mouth was agape. Steve moved away, looking around the room for something. He pouted a bit, unable to find what he was looking for. He moved to the door before looking back at Fareeha. “Hey, just hang tight for a minute, ok? I’m gunna go get a first aid kit.” A lightbulb seemed to go off in his head, and he perked up a bit. “Oh, and change shoes. I really don’t want to mess these up.” He opened the door. “Catch you in a bit.” And he was gone. 

Fareeha sat for several minutes in complete silence. Was this some twisted game? Some way to make her think he was going to treat her kindly, or let her go? Or was he just coming in front brunch at a classy cafe, and wandered into the wrong room? A first aid kit? Why would he need that? She had so many questions, was so confused, that when he returned, she couldn’t help but to burst out, “What the fuck is going on?” She stared at him in bewilderment as he chuckled.

He moved to a table on the near wall, setting down all the supplies he had brought. He turned back to her holding a few pieces of blank paper and a pen. “We’re gunna do some arts and crafts later. That’s later, though.” He moved back to the door, slipping out after saying, with a chuckle, “Don’t go anywhere now.” He reentered the room a moment later dragging a cart with more things on it. Most notably a scroll saw. Fareeha swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. He smiled at her again, laughing. “You get it? I said don’t go anywhere. It’s funny because you’re tied to the chair.” Fareeha wasn’t laughing, and he pouted. “Tough crowd tonight.” 

Fareeha wasn’t really in the mood, though. She asked again, “What the fuck is going on?” with a little more force behind it. He sighed, unfazed by Fareeha’s ire. 

“So impatient. If you must know, I’m here to get the layout of the security measures of the watchpoints from you. We’re certain an important member of Overwatch such as yourself knows the layouts. We just need you to draw it out for us.” He motioned back to the paper sitting on the table. “So if you’re feeling helpful yet, we can get to arts and crafts now, and then we can go.” He paused, thinking. “Well, I don’t know if you’ll be released. But at least I’ll be allowed to go. That’s something, right?” 

Fareeha shook her head, letting out a loud, barking laugh. “You can go to hell,  _ Steve _ ,” she jived, overemphasizing his name. “What a stupid name for a torturer.” Steve pouted, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.

“You know, that would make my mom real sad. She thought it was a wonderful name. So what can I do? Not all torturers are blessed with names like Sven or Gustav or Vladamir. You work with what you’ve got.” He turned and grabbed a first aid kit from the cart, opening it and drawing out some disinfecting wipes. “Anywho, let’s get you cleaned up. Don’t want you dripping blood on the maps you draw. And you kinda need to be able to see what you’re drawing.” He moved over to her, gently swabbing the blood from the cuts and placing bandaids over them. He held one proudly in front of her eyes. “Look at them, they have little ducks on them!” Fareeha laughed again. She must be hallucinating. He was really torturing her right now, but she was imagining him cleaning her wounds. 

Quite satisfied with his first aid job, he stepped back. He grabbed something off the cart and set it on the table. A soft piano began emanating through the room, followed by a light drum beat. “I hope you don’t mind if I put on some music. If you aren’t feeling the song, let me know and I can change it.” He looked back at Fareeha, perhaps for approval, who gave him an incredulous “Sure.” He nodded and moved back to the cart. “Have you ever considered defecting to Talon?” he asked, as he grabbed a cable from the saw and moved to the wall to find an electrical outlet. 

“Fuck you,” Fareeha replied nicely, with a smile on her face. 

Steve shrugged. “I’d have to torture you even if you said you would. Just food for thought.” He found a outlet, and inserted the plug. “They have full health insurance. Even dental! Pretty good for a terrorist organization.” He chuckled. “Guess no one wants to bomb hotels with bad teeth.” 

Fareeha sighed. “Can we get on with this? I have a girlfriend and we had some pretty exciting plans for tonight. Really not trying to miss that.” Steve put his hands up defensively. 

“Hey listen, I’m in the same boat. I’m not hourly. I want this over just as quick. I have late lunch plans. So if you could just draw me some maps…” he trailed off, looking at Fareeha for the ok.

“I’m guessing you’re looking for ‘Ok I’ll draw the maps just please let me go’? Sorry. Not gunna happen.” Steve sighed. He flipped the on switch on the saw, nodding as it powered up, then turned it off again. 

“Alrighty then. Here’s what we’re gunna do. I’m gunna put you in handcuffs and untie your arms. Can we do that?” 

Fareeha nodded, a cheesy smile on her face. “Of course, Steve. Usually I prefer a few dates before we break out the cuffs, but I like you a lot.” She winked at him, and he laughed. 

He grabbed some cuffs from the cart and moved behind the chair she was tied to. “Yea, I like you too, Fareeha. Been awhile since I had an agreeable...victim? Torturee? You understand.” He locked the cuffs in place, and produced a knife from his pocket. He cut away the ropes that had kept her wrists together to begin with. He hummed in annoyance. “Damn, I need your arms in front of you.” He scratched his head as he pondered how to fix this situation. “Ah. I know.” He moved to the door, and said something to someone outside that Fareeha couldn’t quite make out. A guard with a rifle entered the room, keeping his gun trained on Fareeha. “So here’s the deal. I’m gunna unlock the cuffs, you’re gunna place your hands on your lap like a good girl, and I’m going to recuff you. If you do anything other than that, this guy’s gunna put three in your chest. And don’t think of using me as a shield or any nonsense like that. Tough guy over here would just shoot through me.” 

Fareeha took a moment to consider this. Her legs were still tightly bound to the chair legs. She wasn’t going anywhere. There was no way she could take them both out. “Fine.” 

The cuffs clicked open, and she slowly brought her arms around to her lap, where Steve locked the cuffs back on. He smiled at her before turning back to the guard. “Thank you so much, large intimidating man. Please return to where you’re supposed to be.” The guard turned and was out the door. “I really appreciate the cooperation. Now, one last chance. Arts and crafts time?” 

“Forget it, jackass.” 

It was then that Steve really looked at Fareeha’s hands, noticed the blood caked to her fingertips, how it still streamed out of some fingers. She had not a single nail left on either hand. Steve raised a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All at once? He pulled your nails all at once?” He shook his head. “I would like to apologize for his lack of professionalism. Really it’s kind of just tacky, all at once. You have to space it out. Give them time to think about if they really want another nail pulled out, or if they want to cooperate. All at once is just pointless.” He grabbed a small white towel from the table and handed it to Fareeha, who took it and wiped her hands as best she could in the handcuffs, wincing at the pain as it passed over her raw nailbeds. 

She looked up grinned at him. “Throwing in the towel so soon?” This elicited a chuckle from him.

He smirked. He turned, grabbing the cart and pulling it right in front of Fareeha. He flipped the switch on the saw, and it began pulsing up and down. “Well, I guess it’s time to get down to…” he started, looking at the saw in frustration as it partially drowned out his voice. He tried again, louder. “Time to get started the- and you know what, no.” He flicked the switch and the saw came to a stop. He sighed. “Much better. Now like I was saying. Time to get to business.” He reached for her hands, firmly placing them on the cart, next to the saw. A lump formed in Fareeha’s throat. She could take the punches, the cuts, the electrocution. Hands and saws didn’t do well together, though. “Are you right handed or left handed?” Fareeha stared at her hands.  _ Shit. Shit shit shit. _ He placed a finger on her chin and turned her head to look at him. 

She froze for a moment, the lump in her throat growing bigger by the second. She swallowed, and choked out, “Right.” 

He nodded. “Don’t look so freaked out. I’m not gunna cut your fingers off.” He chuckled softly. “No, that’s much to barbaric. And predictable. It lacks inspiration, creativity. It lacks impact. Yea, it hurts like shit. But you don’t think about it. The finger is coming off. From many years of doing this, the most effective method I’ve found is to give you plenty of time to think about the pain.” A chill ran through Fareeha as a wolfish smile crossed Steve’s face. “See, me taking off your finger, that’s eh. But making you do it, well that’s just gold. It  _ really  _ puts an emotional kick into it for you” Fareeha’s eyes went wide. “Like I said.  _ I’m  _ not going to be cutting your fingers off.” Fareeha looked to her hands, which were properly shaking now. Her whole body shook. Her hands were working their way back to her body on their own accord, and Steve gently grabbed them, pulling them back. He flipped on the switch, and the saw whirred to life. Her hands scattered about the cart, her arms no longer under her control. His hand pushed up against her left, tucking in three of her fingers. Only her index finger remained protruding. He moved her finger just next to the saw blade, pulsing up and down. 

_ Fuck.  _ The only clear thought running through Fareeha’s mind. Something else was there. A lighthouse in the dark, a crevice to hide beneath in the blizzard. Angela. And she is not alone. The others at Overwatch, Winston and Lena, Hana, Aleks, all of them. Their safety rested on Fareeha’s shoulders. She could not let Talon break her. She would not. She closed her eyes and saw Angela, proud of her, at her strength, her determination to protect. Her hands calmed down, now a subtle vibration compared to their violent shaking. She looked right into Steve’s eyes. She would not bend to him. 

She looked back to her hand, her index finger a hair away from the saw blade. She took a deep breath, though the shaking from her hands had seemingly moved to her lungs. She gripped the tip of her left index finger with her right index and thumb, and pushed. Razor sharp metal teeth met flesh, and yelled out in pain. She slammed her teeth together, locking back her cries in a cage. The noises she made were a hybrid of cries and growls, savage sounds as the the saw got to her bone. It felt like an eternity. Her arms convulsed, her back arched against the chair, her legs pulled against the binds. The pain shot to every inch of her body, and nausea welled up in her stomach. Her hand twitched, too hard to control, and the angle changed. Fresh hell shot into her hand as blood and bone chips splattered everywhere, and she screamed, a full and feral shriek. She pushed harder, desperate for the pain to end. With a final cry, she made it all the way through, her hands drawing back to her chest, her severed finger staying behind next to the saw. 

Steve flicked the switch, and the saw blade came to a rest. Blood covered it like a fresh coat of paint, and tiny bits of flesh stuck to the teeth. He moved to the table, leaving Fareeha to try and bear the pain. Her groans and growls of pain lined up with her deep, heavy breathing. Her body shook, tried to hunch over to protect her hand. She fought the ropes binding her to the chair, but she was stuck sitting straight. Blood flowed freely from the short stump where her finger had been, leaving a stain of crimson on her stomach where she held it, trailing down to her pants and saturating the material over her hips. A tear trailed down her cheek, one she hadn’t realized had formed. She bowed her head, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to prevent any more from escaping. The noise of something being placed on the cart sounded off, and Fareeha twitched, crying out as her stomach brushed against her wound, causing a new wave of pain to wash over her, adding to the misery she was already in. 

She didn’t think the pain couldn’t get any worse. Then Steve grabbed her wrist, and she realized just how wrong she was. 

The sudden force shocked her, and her eyes burst open. She saw the fate that awaited her, and her arms jerked back. Steve’s grip was like a vice, though, and she whimpered as he dragged her hands back to the cart. A second later, the whimper was a full blown scream. Her wound was shoved into a bowl of salt water, so saturated that a thick layer of undissolved salt lay below the surface. Pain coursed through her hand like electricity, like lightning bolts up her arm. Her head fell back as she unleashed a throat tearing scream to the ceiling. Stray tears turned to thick streams down her cheeks as she sobbed in agony. She bucked, pulled, writhed, tried everything to get away, desperate. But his grip was too strong, the ropes holding her too tight, and so all she could do was wail in pain. He pressed her wound harder into the salt, and the lightning turned to fire, her hand burning like it was in the depths of hell. He shifted her hand again, and her hand moved from burning fire to a vat of acid, dissolving her flesh only for it to reform, and dissolve again. Her throat was torn up, spent, and her cries had turned to raw noises.  He finally let go of her wrist, after...seconds? Minutes? It had felt like a lifetime of misery. As soon as his grip was gone Fareeha retracted her hand to her chest, holding as close as possible, as far away from him as possible. 

She briefly shifted her eyes to him, before closing them hard. The easy look from his eyes was gone, the brown seemingly stolen away, leaving only black. His too casual grin had been replaced by the devil’s smile. 

Choked sobs and moans clogged her throat as he moved away. Her hand still felt as though it was on fire. Steve was filling another bowl with water. He brought it over and placed it on the cart, next to the salt bowl. “Wash it out.” Fareeha hesitated, and Steve sighed. “Just water. I swear.” Slowly, Fareeha's hand moved closer to the bowl. Slowly, she lowered her wound into the water. It hurt, though it was not nearly as bad as the saltwater. This pain seemed refreshing, soothing even, compared to what she had just gone through. She moved her hand back and forth, letting the water wash around her wound. 

She felt his breath on her ear and neck as he leaned in behind her. “See?” he whispered, his voice maniacal. “Wasn’t that an experience? And it has a dual purpose. The salt sure hurts like hell. But it’ll also keep that nice hand of yours from getting an infection.” He reached over her shoulder, lightly gripping her wrist. She whimpered as her hand was pulled from the safety of the water and placed on her lap. He walked back around in front of her, a towel in his hands. He held it out, and she took it, drying her hand of water and gently wrapping it around her wound, to the best of her abilities. He took her hand, doing a better job to and tying a secure knot to keep the towel pressed to her wound. 

Steve walked back to the table by the wall, once again grabbing the paper he had brought earlier. “Now,” he said, the easy smile coming back across his face. “I have a lunch date with a friend. I’m going to leave you with some paper and a pen. And you’re going to do some floorplan drawing.” He tilted his head, grinning. “Right?” 

Fareeha swallowed and shook her head up and down feebly, not meeting his eyes. He smiled at this, the smile reaching his eyes. “Good girl.” He placed the paper on the cart, moving aside the bowls of water and saltwater. He pulled a pen from his back pocket and laid it on top of the paper. Before he went, he nudged the cart a little closer to Fareeha, pressed it against her knees so she could reach it better. He nodded as she grasped the pen, and turned. With a final, “See you in a while,” he was out the door. 

  
Fareeha stared down at the pen. The floorplans, the layouts of security measures, weak spots. That’s what they wanted. Fareeha had it all memorized. Her hands shook, not from the pain, but from knowing just what would happen if they got the information they sought. With a deep, shaky breath, Fareeha placed the pen to the paper and began to draw.


	2. The Darkest Side of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I've said it once and I'll say it a million times. Between midnight and 5am is the best time to write. Have writers block? Stare at your word document for four hours until 1:30 am rolls around, and just get after it. Anyway this took longer to get out than I wanted it to, but here it is. Last chapter was just an appetizer, a small taste before the main course. I've got some pretty brutal stuff in store for you here, friends, so buckle those seatbelts. you're in for a ride. enjoy! >:D
> 
> Song: Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace

Hours had passed since he left. The pain had died down to a constant burning, though only embers compared to the earlier fire. She looked around the room for the thousandth time, her eyes falling everywhere but the papers on the cart. They lay upside down. She could not bear to look at it, did not wish to think of the consequences of her drawings. The music Steve had put on earlier still played, now a smooth jazz song. It should have been calming, but it only unnerved Fareeha. It reminded her too much of the music Angela listened to. 

Angela. 

Fareeha was here because of Angela. No. That wasn't fair. She was here because of her own immaturity. It was frustrating, to say the least, that at age 36 she still acted like a child. She didn’t get what she wanted, so she ran away. And in doing so, hurt her chances of getting what she wanted. Probably ruined it altogether. Fareeha closed her eyes. 

_ “I told you, Fareeha, a dozen times now, I don’t think it's the right time.”  _

_ “And when will it be, Angela?” Frustration.  _

_ “I don’t know, ok? One day when things aren't so crazy. When we can breath for a moment.” _

_ “You and I both know that day isn’t going to come. It’s getting more and more crazy by the minute!” Shouting now. Angry. “We’re waiting and waiting and waiting, and pretty soon it's going to be too late!” _

_ “I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Fareeha.” Cold. Distant.  _

_ “I want you to say you’ll marry me.” _

_ Silence. Long, consuming silence.  _

_ Quiet. So quiet. “I can’t” _

_ Turning. Walking away. Looking back. “Can’t, or won’t?” Bitter. _

_ Tears. Regret. From both of them, though neither of them knew it.  _

She went right to Winston and requested a mission. Alone. He fought her for a solid twenty minutes, but she was unrelenting. He would not send her out alone. She would not take no for an answer. He hesitantly sent her on a recon mission for a small, abandoned Talon outpost. Well, turns out it wasn't so abandoned after all. Some sort of signal jammer blocked her communications, preventing her from calling for help. 

A gun to her head had kept her from blowing them all to hell. The spot where the gun was smashed against her head was surely swollen and bruised. 

That was two days ago. Yesterday, she sat in the chair, alone all day save the soldier who brought her water around noon. Two days she’d been missing. She was scared to imagine how Angela must be taking this. Surely she blamed herself. And poor Winston, the verbal beating he must be receiving. Perhaps one to rival the physical punishment Fareeha had endured. 

Fareeha’s eyes fell on the flipped papers. She swallowed down fear. What would happen to Angela if Talon launched a surprise attack on the watchpoint? She hung her head, knowing what would happen when Steve returned. 

~~~

“If you tell me I’m not going one more time, I’ll be stepping over your corpse on the way out the door.”

Winston laughed, though perhaps that was not entirely accurate. It was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Angela, I think we both know that that statement holds no weight.” Winston took his glasses off and breathed on them, wiping them clear before replacing them on his face. 

Angela huffed indignantly. “I’ve shot someone before, I’ll have you know.” Winston rolled his eyes, and Jesse laughed. She turned to him and glared. “And what’s so funny?”

McCree shook his head, a grin on his face. “That was with a taser, Ange. Doesn’t exactly count.” 

The scowl on Angela’s face grew. “It absolutely does count. I aimed it at him and pulled the trigger. I shot him.” 

McCree was unconvinced. “And  _ he _ happened to be a willing man wearing our developmental electricity proof suit.” Angela pouted angrily, pushing Jesse’s arm and turning back to Winston. 

“I’m going. It’s my fault she’s there.” Winston studied her face, managing to keep his own expression neutral, much to Angela’s frustration. “I’m going,” she repeated. 

Winston brought a hand to his forehead. “Fine. No weapons. And you are the lowest in command. You follow any order given from anyone.” 

Angela considered this for a moment. “Agreeable. And might I ask,” she said, clenching her fists, “now that I am going on this, why the hell we haven’t already left?” 

Winston motioned to the large screen, showing a satellite view of the compound Fareeha had gone to check out. Well, that’s what Angela assumed it was. The screen was a jumbled, fuzzy mess. “They’re using some kind of signal jammer. We can’t get a clear picture, so we have no idea what their numbers are.” He paused, his eyes unsure. “We’re waiting on, uh,” he said, slowly, “some more oldschool surveillance reports.”

Angela’s eyes narrowed. “And what does that mean?”

Winston looked away, trying to avoid Angela’s anger. “Well, uh, Tracer and Genji should be back in about an hour. They were sent out to scout the area.” 

Fires lit themselves in Angela’s eyes. “And why,” she growled, barely restraining the rage she wanted to release, “are they not just busting her out of there themselves?” Winston stared blankly at the screen, keeping Angela far from his vision. 

In his place, McCree spoke up. “Two people aren’t a rescue party. We have no idea how many Talon goons there are. There were enough to get Fareeha. And we have no idea what condition she’s in. She could be-”

“Don’t you fucking dare suggest that,” Angela cut in, venom on her tongue, pain in her eyes. 

“Injured,” McCree finished. “She might need help leaving, and that would leave only one of them for covering fire. You know that’s beyond dangerous.” 

Angela clenched and unclenched her fist, squeeze, release, squeeze, release. She hated him for being right. “I’m going to get suited up. Saleh and the Tariq are coming too, correct?” Winston nodded. “Tell them to they better be ready to leave the goddamn second Genji and Tracer are back.” She turned and headed for the door. She opened it violently, looking back at them for a brief second. “The  _ goddamn _ second,” she growled, and then she was gone. 

Winston sighed again. He glanced over at McCree, who was lost in thought. He looked back up at Winston and said, “Do you think she’s…” His voice trailed off, and he frowned. “I mean, if she’s alive...they must be trying to interrogate her…” He took a deep breath. “I just don’t see how she isn’t going to be in a bad way when we get there.”

Winston nodded, but remained silent for a few seconds. “She’s strong.” He took another moment. “No matter what they throw at her, she’ll make it.” Jesse nodded. Winston typed something into the keyboard near him, and the giant screen showing the fuzzy image of the compound went black. “I’m more worried about Angela. Watch over her, Jesse.”

McCree nodded. “You know I’m good for it.”

Winston only nodded, and after a few silent moments, McCree turned and went to get ready.

~~~

He didn’t look at her as he entered the room, but she could see his eyes. Haunted. Fareeha felt her stomach turn. He walked to the cart and grabbed the papers. He turned them and studied each of them closely, nodding as he moved the top paper to the bottom to inspect the next, his face completely blank. He got through all of the pages, three in total. He flipped them around, holding them out for Fareeha to look at, and a large grin spread across his face.

**GO** read the first paper, in big block letters. He moved that paper to the back to reveal the next one.  **FUCK** , it read. And finally, he presented the last paper.  **YOURSELF.** He laughed, though it sounded to Fareeha more like a demented cackle. 

He placed the papers back down on the cart. “That’s good.” He leaned in close to her, his nose nearly touching hers. “That's really good.” He leaned back, picking the papers up again and walking to the table on the side of the room. “Would you mind if I hung these on the wall?” 

Fareeha rolled her eyes. “What if I said no?” 

Steve pouted. “You’re no fun.” He let the papers fall to the table, turning around to face her again. The easy smile, the calm demeanor, it was all still there. But his eyes… “So. It’ll be another finger then?”

A tremor ran through Fareeha, and her hand instinctively retracted to her chest. He walked over towards her, a devilish grin on his face. No. She had lasted through one finger. She had a duty, to keep her friends safe, even if it meant losing her life. No amount of pain, no lost fingers could make her betray her friends. She looked up at Steve and smirked. “Just another finger, you say?  This is getting a little boring. Maybe I’ll take a quick nap inst-” 

Fareeha let out a surprised yelp as Steve’s hand pushed into her mouth, his thumb and index finger clamping down on her tongue, pulling it as far as it would go. He leaned in, his voice dangerously quiet. “I’ve never cut out someone’s tongue before.” His mouth slid into a sly smile. “But if you feel the need to keep talking, well...you know what they say. There’s a first time for everything.” He released her tongue and she closed her mouth tight, swallowing down the fear that swelled up in her throat. She would not break. But that did not mean she wasn’t terrified. 

Steve wiped his fingers off on the back of his thigh, and let out a long hmm. A lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind, and he moved quickly to a cabinet sitting behind where she sat. She could hear a drawer opening, metal clanking. He returned in front of her with a pair of pliers in hand. “Ya know,” he said, “since I was telling you about Talon’s great dental plan, I figure I should give you a check-up, on the house.” Fareeha clenched her mouth shut. “Open up,” he said with a smirk as he pinched the skin of her stomach with the pliers. She groaned, but did not open her mouth. He twisted, breaking the skin. Fareeha let out a yelp, her mouth opening, and Steve did not hesitate. 

He quickly pushed the pliers into Fareeha's mouth, just far enough that she could not close it again. “Yea, see,” he said, looking closely at her mouth. “Good thing I offered. You definitely have a few teeth that need to be pulled.” Fareeha tried to turn her head away, but the pliers had already shifted, tightly gripping a tooth on the bottom row. “This canine is not looking good. No time for painkillers. We have to get it out  _ now _ ”. As he finished his sentence, he gave the tooth a pull. Pain shot through Fareeha’s jaw and she let out a cry. He pulled again, and again, each time sending lightning bolts into Fareeha’s skull. 

He wiggled it back and forth, and somehow, that was more agonizing more than the pulling. It felt like he was grating barbed wire against her mouth. Blood began to seep into her mouth, pooling between her teeth and lip, flowing out onto her chin. With a final pull, the tooth was ripped from her gums and the taste of metal filled her mouth as blood flooded from the new hole. She let out a miserable yell, but blood leaked down her throat, and she coughed, blood splattering all over her pants. She kept her head down, gasping in pain, blood falling in a stream from her mouth onto her lap. 

She felt the pliers under her chin, felt them tilt her head up. His eyes drilled holes into her own. She tried to be defiant, tried to hold his gaze, but her eyes fell away. He smirked. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news...But we’re going to have to remove another tooth.” 

Fareeha's eyes shot back to his, her mouth clamping shut again. After a moment, though, the blood had built up in her mouth, and she opened it to release the blood. It was easy for Steve to push the pliers into her mouth, gripping the tooth just next to the one he’d pulled. “Please,” she moaned around the pliers. She hated how pathetic she sounded. 

He had no response for her, only the pulling on the tooth. She screamed in agony, her mouth already on fire from the last tooth. Tears streaked down her cheeks, joining the blood on her chin and falling to her lap. This tooth seemed to come out faster. He didn’t wiggle it around as much, no. He just ripped this one out.

He laughed softly as Fareeha gasped and sobbed in pain. He placed the pliers down, the two teeth resting beside her severed finger, and picked up a wad of gauze. “Open your mouth,” he stated, his tone hinting at boredom. He pushed her chin to her chest, ignoring the pain that it caused. She’d drown in her own blood before she let him get into her mouth again. “It’s to stop the bleeding.” He snorted. “Unless you want to die by bleeding out from a few pulled teeth.” She looked up at him, locking eyes as she let the blood drip from her mouth. His eyes seemed to drip, the brown seeping out of them like the blood poured from Fareeha’s mouth. Only the black remained. 

Begrudgingly, nervously, she opened her mouth, blood spilling out in excess. He pressed the gauze onto the two new holes in her mouth. She flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away. “Bite down,” he told her, wiping his fingers free of blood on her arm. “Don’t let it move.” She did so, wincing as pressure was put into the already burning wounds. 

There was a knock on the door, three sharp raps. Both Steve and Fareeha’s eyes shot to the door. “Now, who could that be?” said Steve. 

~~~

Angela stood at the door, and took a deep breath.  _ This is it. No matter what, I have to remain calm. I can do this. _ The wings on her back shifted endlessly, a product of nerves. There was no time to waste, though. She had a mission to complete. 

Another deep breath, and she was pushing through the door. 

“Hey there, Ange,” came Jesse’s southern accent. “Didn't think you were gunna make it.” 

She nodded to him, appreciated how he was trying to keep it light. But it fell flat against her. “Well I did,” she responded sharply, “didn’t I?” 

McCree cracked a small smile. “Yea, ya did.” He turned to Tracer, standing behind him. “Well, that’s all of us. Let’s get this show on the road.” Tracer nodded and headed for the cockpit of the small transport craft they were in. McCree sat on one of the wall seats, Genji taking a place next to him. Angela turned to Saleh and Tariq, both in their Raptora suits and looking skeptically at the seats, and pointed up. Understanding dawned in them as they saw the harnesses. All three of them reached up, grabbing them and strapping the belts to their wastes. It was a design Winston had come up with, since it was near impossible for Angela or Fareeha to sit in their suits, a system that allowed them to stand but to not feel the effects of rapid changes in movement. They were in no danger of being thrown into the wall or ceiling if Tracer had to take evasive maneuvers. 

The argument replayed over and over in Angela’s mind. It had happened so fast, it was over before it started. She hadn’t slept well the night before, on edge from the nightmares that had kept her awake. She was quick to dismiss Fareeha, to brush off her thoughts instead of having a discussion. It had already been a sore topic between them. Marriage…

It wasn’t that Angela didn't want to marry Fareeha. She couldn't. Just dating her took a toll on Angela's nerves. She was deathly worried any time Fareeha went on a mission. She was so afraid that she would lose Fareeha. Worse, that she would have to resurrect her. Worse still, that it would go wrong. She knew what happened when it went wrong. What she had created. Angela feared that being married to Fareeha would be torture, a constant barrage of horrifying what-ifs and terrible, ugly thoughts about everything that could go wrong. She loved Fareeha, but she was so, so scared. 

“Angela.” 

She was dragged from her thoughts by Genji’s voice. She blinked, her cheeks turning a faint shade of red. She had been zoned out, but her eyes were in his direction. “My apologies, Genji. I didn't mean to stare.”

He held up a hand. “Think nothing of it. I understand you are concerned. We all are.” Angela clenched her fists. She was beyond concerned. She felt like she’d throw up any second now. “But we are going to get her back. She is the strongest person I know. She is going to be fine.” A small smile was the best Angela could offer her robotic friend. 

McCree nodded. “We all love her, in our own ways. She’s family.” Genji nodded in agreement. 

Angela felt a hand on her shoulder. Saleh. “Cap’s never let us down before. We aren’t gunna let her down.” He had an easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes instead were a deadly focus. She looked to Tariq, then back to Jesse. They all shared that look. She took a deep breath. The fear was not gone, not be any means. Even a scratch on Fareeha was a terrifying thought. But she trusted her friends. They would get Fareeha out in one piece. She returned her gaze to Genji, and nodded. Yes. They’d save Fareeha, she was sure of it. 

~~~

Steve grinned as he opened the door to find a Talon soldier standing there. “Sir, I was told to come and tell you it’s ready.” Steve’s face lit up in devilish excitement. 

“Lead the way then. I’ll have it straight away.” The soldier nodded, and Steve looked back to Fareeha momentarily. “I’ll be back in a moment with a new toy for us!” 

Fareeha took a deep breath through her nose, keeping her mouth closed tightly despite the pain. He was correct, in that leaving her mouth to bleed freely could easily lead to her death. And so no matter how bad it hurt to keep the gauze pushed against her wound, she would. She kept her eyes shut tightly as well, doing her best to take herself away from the windowless room she found herself in. 

She opened her eyes and she was sitting on the cliffs of Gibraltar. Her arms stretched out behind her, keeping her upright. She leaned back a little further, taking in the beautiful sunset that painted the sky before her. She heard a door opening behind her, turned her head to see Angela. A smile appeared on Fareeha’s face as her love took a seat next to her, leaning into her her, resting her head on Fareeha’s shoulder. 

They sat like that, silent, for what felt like forever. They didn’t say a word, but they didn’t need to. Every little shift, ever contented sigh, every gentle stroke on the arm or the side or the head said everything that needed to be said. 

The sun was just a sliver above the horizon, and seemed to now have only a single beam of light to cast before it was gone for the day. Fareeha found that it fell directly onto her chest. Fareeha looked down to her stomach, studying it. She felt an odd heat, and then it was burning, burning like the sun itself was planted on her stomach, and Angela was screaming.

She blinked and was shoved back into reality. It turned out she was the one screaming, and it was not the light of the sun upon her stomach but a hot brand. Steve was staring at her with a grin. “Good morning, sunshine,” he purred. He pulled the brand back, laughing maniacally. Fareeha gasped for breath, each inhale and exhale feeling like she was being stabbed in the gut. The gauze had fallen out, and blood was again flowing out from the corner of her mouth.

Steve held the brand up so Fareeha could see it. It was rectangular, and it had letters on it. Fareeha felt sick. “See,” Steve piped up, very excited about his ‘new toy’, “I don’t know who they have thinking these things up, but boy whoever is in charge deserves a pay raise. You mentioned a certain girlfriend before...the wonderful Dr. Ziegler. Codename Mercy.” He looked at Fareeha as a wolf looked at its cornered prey. “I bet you wish she was here now. To treat all your wounds. To tell you it’ll be ok. Well,” he said, waving the brand about, “this is the closest you’ll get to that.” Five letters on the brand, big and bold.  **MERCY** . “So go on, Pharah.” He leaned in close to her, and whispered, “Beg for mercy.” 

Fareeha wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape her binds and kick the shit out of Steve, or if she wanted to throw up. How  _ dare _ he drag her into this. Oh gods, it was already planted on her stomach already. She looked at him, looked him straight in his dark, colorless eyes, and the anger won out. She twitched and jerked against the ropes holding her, wanting to take the brand and shove it down his throat. He moved the brand closer, touching just the corner to her chest. “I said, beg.” Fareeha screamed, bucking and pulling on the ropes.  _ Fuck, fuck fuck it hurts.  _

He pulled the brand away, leaning down, moving those eyes so close to hers. Without color, there was only black left in them. Dead. Empty. “You should learn to do as you’re told,” he said, anger locked behind deadly control. Fareeha closed her mouth tightly, letting some blood pool behind her lips, and spit it right into Steve’s face. He roared and turned away from her, wiping at his face. He grabbed a towel from the table on the wall, clearing away the blood and spit. Still facing away from her, he growled, “You  _ really  _ shouldn’t have done that.” He spun, the brand held in his hand like a sword. Fareeha got a look in his eyes, and her stomach did a flip. They were dead no longer. No, they burned with an ungodly fury. They were unnatural, evil.

“What did they think would happen?” he spat, not really directed at Fareeha but rather just out loud. His eyes focused in on Fareeha. “Well if they’re playing with fire, someone has to get  _ burned _ .” He advanced towards Fareeha in a flash, his free hand gripping her throat. Fareeha sputtered, true fear in her eyes and her mind. He had gone from torturer to psychopath, and now instead of fearing for a finger or a tooth she feared for her life. 

The hot iron pressed against her cheek and a choked cry escaped her throat. She tried to turn away from the brand but his hand around her throat made it nearly impossible. Her cheek felt like it was melting away, the tears that flowed from her eyes hissing as they touched the iron. After what felt like eternities, the iron was pulled from her cheek, his hand gone from her throat. He discarded the brand on the floor, balled up his fist, and unloaded a fist to kiss the same cheek the brand had met. If the punch were a kiss, surely it would have been an intense one, the kind that knocked a person out in the television shows. It knocked Fareeha not out, but back. Crashing back, her head hitting hard on the floor as the chair tipped over.

Blood ran to the back of her mouth, down her throat and into her airway, and she coughed, turning her head to the side to let the blood flow out again. Stars danced in her vision as Steve stood over her. “Such a shame they aren’t here for me to take this out on. You’ll do instead, I guess.” He moved away, towards the table, though Fareeha could not see him. He let out another roar, and the sound of metal on metal ran out through the room. “What did they expect?” he shouted. Footsteps. “What did they think would happen when they didn’t give me the pills today?” He was over her again. “They know what I did before the pills.” He shook, not in fear or pain like Fareeha, but in pure rage. There was a demonic look in his eyes now. He held a large pipe wrench in his hand. 

The first blow didn’t really register in her mind. She saw the wrench connect with her elbow, heard the sickening crunch it made, but she didn’t feel the pain. No, that didn’t come until the second strike, landing in the same spot. Fareeha opened her mouth, felt the scream, but her throat had had enough. A pitiful noise made its way out, not at all representative of the agony coursing through her arm. After the third blow, just above her wrist, consciousness started to fade. The fourth blow brought darkness.

~~~

She wasn’t sure how long she had been out, but the maiming of her arm had stopped. She sat upright again. Her eyes opened tentatively, unsure if they truly wanted to open. She found that she was now facing the door. Sounds came in and out of her perception. Steve was standing behind her, mumbling to himself as a lunatic in the asylum ranted. Loud cracks sounded off, short bursts followed by long pauses. Sometimes a crack that was louder than the others. Large booms, though they were few and far between. She tried to turn her head to look around, to look back at Steve, but pain shot through her at the slightest motion. She let out a pathetic cry, her head slumping down. 

Her eyes fixed in on her arm. The handcuff was no longer around her left wrist, and her arm hung limp at her side. It was disfigured, and bloody, and mangled. Her elbow bent slightly in the wrong direction. She tried to move it but found she could not. She shifted her shoulder, and whimpered as hell itself ran through her arm. Blood still dripped from her fingers. At least, the four that remained on her hand. 

Steve seemed to notice that she was awake, because his mumblings stopped. He took a deep, shaky breath. His voice was so quiet, she wasn’t sure if he had really spoken, or she just imagined it. “It wasn’t me. I...I’m sorry.” Fareeha didn’t have the energy to laugh, nor the voice to retort, so she settled for not reacting at all. Another burst of the loud noises. Gunshots. That’s what they were. They were getting closer, too. 

The room was spinning. Darkness floated in and out of Fareeha’s sight, unconsciousness threatening to take her again.  _ Or maybe it’s death, _ Fareeha thought. An ugly thought. That she would die just as she was saved. Perhaps closer to reality than she first thought, though, as she heard a gun being cocked, felt a gun press against her temple. She closed her eyes, and waited for death, knowing that, at least, she did not betray her friends. And so she waited.

 

And waited.

 

And waited.

  
The gunshots grew louder, and louder, and soon it sounded like they were just outside the room. There was a brief moment of silence, and then the door was kicked in, and a salmon colored Raptora suit and a neon green cyborg were pushing into the room, and Fareeha was still waiting to see if she would live or die in this moment.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone loves a good cliffhanger right??? :D im sorry :) thanks for reading and you know i love to hear your feedback. the support on this so far has been awesome and i couldnt do it without you all reading! thank you all so much. and sorry im such a horrible person to Fareeha :(


	3. The Life I Think About

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be three chapters but this got so big already, I didn't want to have a huge chapter. So I decided to break it up here. So it's a fast new chapter this time around! Hope you all enjoy >:D
> 
> Song is One X by Three Days Grace
> 
> (this story came to me when i started listening to TDG again ok. They aren't the only band I listen to I swear)

In the blink of an eye Genji was behind the man holding a gun to Fareeha’s head. His blade to the man’s neck, he slowly raised his hands in surrender. Genji snatched the firearm away from him. McCree was moving forward to enter the room, but Saleh had stopped. He stared at Fareeha, frozen by the sight, whereas Genji was able to take control of the situation. McCree got just a brief glance before he was turning, holstering his revolver. The color had left his face, and he felt sick, but there would be time for that later. Genji could handle the man. Jesse was more worried about Angela. 

She was in the hall, behind Tariq, though attempting to make her way past him. She saw the look on Jesse’s face and her eyes went wide, shoving Tariq to the side to try and get to the room, to Fareeha. Jesse shook his head. “Ange, no. No, don-” He grabbed her as she tried to pass him, pulling her away, arms wrapped around her waist. He lifted her back, pulling her feet away from the ground and started to walk away from the room. 

She struggled against him, kicking her feet and trying to pull his arms off of her, to no avail. “Let me go! Jesse!” She shifted tactics, leaning to the right and throwing her elbow back into his chin. This seemed to stun him, and her feet found the floor again. “Get off me, damn it!” Another elbow to the side of the face and she broke free from his arms, frantically moving to the room. She was just a step into the room when she saw Fareeha. Saleh was cutting the ropes off of her, freeing her from the chair. 

Angela sunk to her hands and knees, stomach churning. A moment later, ugly noises were coming from her mouth, along with the contents of her stomach. The ropes keeping Fareeha held in the chair were gone, and Fareeha slumped over, almost falling if not for Saleh’s quick reaction. She let out a whimper as he grabbed her injured arm. Angela forced herself up, shaking violently as she wiped vomit from her mouth, and made her way to Fareeha. She was hardly conscious, but Angela swore the corners of her mouth perked up just slightly. “Angela,” she whispered, her voice a barely audible scratch. A small trail of blood slipped out of the corner of her mouth, sticking to her chin. 

Jesse put his hand on Angela’s shoulder. “Come on, Ange. Let’s get out of here.” Fareeha seemed to react to this, making to stand. She got halfway up before collapsing forward, into Angela. She stumbled back, grunting as all of Fareeha’s weight fell into her. She wrapped her arms around Fareeha, trying to not drop her. Saleh was quick to pull her up, grabbing her waist and picking her up bridal style. McCree nodded at him and the two made for the door, leaving Angela to watch as her love was carried out half dead. She moved to follow them but her legs did not move. Her gaze shifted to something she had not even acknowledged yet. Someone. 

She felt her body begin to move towards him. Everything turned to slow motion. This man who caused her love so much pain. Who tortured her love. Who held a gun to her love’s head. Evil. Disgusting. Vile. Those were the nicest words she had to describe him. A pool of Fareeha's blood sat under the chair she was bound to, and a little river had formed. It travelled to the man’s feet, and he stared intently at it. Coward. He dared not look Angela in the eyes. He had the strength to torture, to maim, but not to look at the consequences. 

Her mind found focus on herself rather than her thoughts. She was being dragged out of the room, kicking and yelling and clawing at the armored arms that held her back. Tariq’s hold was tighter than Jesse’s, though, and no amount of physical assault on his Raptora suit would hurt him. Angela caught sight of her hand, and stopped resisting, instead studying her hand. Three of her knuckles were split, and there was a small cut on her index finger. Where had that come from? She looked up, just in time to catch sight of the torturer before she was removed from the room. His lip was split open, a little stream of blood emerging. 

It was a shame she only got one punch in. She’d have liked to stay and beat his face to a pulp. 

~~~

Genji assisted Angela in doing the first aid work on the transport ship. There wasn't much in the ways of medical supplies, certainly not enough to treat Fareeha’s arm or mouth. Or the burns on her stomach or her face. They were mainly doing the best they could to stop the bleeding. 

“Like hell you will,” Angela said, eyes reflecting the outrage in her voice. Genji looked up for a moment, wrapping another roll of gauze around Fareeha’s arm. She’d been on a call with another doctor for over twenty minutes, and after Angela had filled them in with the details, progress came to a screeching halt. Angela never said it, but Genji knew what they were arguing about. “I am NOT putting personal feelings before professional. I can’t believe you’d suggest that.” 

Angela's fists clenched. “I am treating her as a patient.” Her mouth dropped open. “ _ I  _ am the head of the medical department. That is  _ my _ choice to make.  _ I  _ will be doing the surgery.” A pause as she listened to the response. “If you’d like to continue this argument over your release papers, I’d be happy to.” Again she listened to a response. She took a deep, shaky breath. “I...I am better prepared. We have more advanced-”

“I am not making excuses! This is in no way the same.”

“Fine, they were a bit-”

She checked the map projected on the wall. “No, we’re about an hour away.”

An exhale. Defeat crossed her face. “She’s lost too much. That’s how much, ok? Is that what you want? You’re right.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I just-”

She took deep breaths, trying to control the shaking that was taking over. “I know you’re just being realistic. Yea, let him know. Tell him it better be damn perfect.”

“Yea. See you when we’re back.” 

She reached up and pressed a button on her halo, ending the call. More tears were forming, threatening to take over. She looked down at Fareeha. “I’m so sorry, Fareeha,” she said, her voice a pained whisper. 

Genji reached out over Fareeha’s body, placing a hand on Angela’s shoulder. “She will get through it. Many of us have. She’s strong.” Angela nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. Blood, her blood, trailed on her cheek. Genji gently grabbed her wrist. “We’ve done all we can for Fareeha, for now. Let me wrap your hand.” 

Angela looked up to him. She looked so small, so weak. He nodded, the only real gesture he could give her with his faceplate still on. It seemed to be enough, though. Angela swallowed, and nodded back. “Ja, ok,” she said, her voice just a whisper.

~~~

Numb. 

For the first few minutes of consciousness, that’s all there was. Was she dead? Ha. What a cruel twist of fate that would be. To die the moment she was to be rescued. Bright light pierced her eyelids. Perhaps the afterlife was profoundly bright. Was that not how it was always portrayed? White and pure?

After a moment of contemplation, Fareeha decided it was time to open her eyes and discover what awaited her beyond her own thoughts. Not the afterlife. Unless the afterlife was a well lit hospital room. What a bleak afterlife that would be. 

She felt no urge to turn her head, so she took in all the details she could in her limited view. There were no signs of angels, hers or otherwise. The bright light above was harsh, and Fareeha grunted as her eyes tired of looking at it. 

“Fareeha?” A tiny voice, unsure. “Are you awake?” 

A slight hum was the best Fareeha could muster. It seemed to be enough. A light figure crashed upon her chest, arms burying themselves under her back in a tight hug. 

Well. 

The pain didn’t hold back any longer. Fareeha let out a groan, and the arms quickly retracted, the person pulling themselves off of her. Another voice spoke. “Watch it, Hana, she didn’t live through all that for you to kill her now.” 

“Shut up,” the first voice said gently, as thin arms wrapped around her own. Hana. And the other voice must belong to Lúcio. Not the afterlife, then. 

With the pain that came, a little more alertness came as well. A little more control. Fareeha let her head roll to the right, resting her right cheek on the pillow. She opened her eyes to meet Hana’s gaze, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her usual facepaint was nearly gone, as though it hadn’t been repainted in days. “Hey,” Fareeha croaked. Her throat felt painfully dry. 

A sob escaped Hana as the tears came faster. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” she cried out. Fareeha shifted her arm, getting Hana to loosen up, and wrapped it around the girl’s waist, pulling her down to her chest again for a proper hug. Hana was more careful of Fareeha’s wounds this time, but the hug was no less tight. Fareeha made to bring her left arm up to embrace Hana, but found there was not much of an arm left to lift. 

Well. 

Fareeha took a deep breath, burying the realization, the trepidation too overwhelming. She had plenty of time later to acknowledge her loss. Fareeha swallowed, pleased that some moisture was returning to her mouth. “What are you doing here?” she managed.

Hana only tightened her grip. Lúcio replied in her place. “She’s been here since you...since you got back. I’ve been in as much as I could.” Fareeha hummed in acknowledgement. A new thought crossed her mind, of someone else who was probably keen to see Fareeha awake. 

“Where’s Ange?” she asked, shifting slightly under Hana. The girl took it as a sign that it was time to get off, and released Fareeha again.

“She’s in the bed to your left,” replied Hana. “She’s been here with you the whole time, too.” Hana paused as Fareeha shifted her head to the left, wincing as her wounded cheek met the pillow. Angela was out cold, mumbling worriedly in her sleep. “This is only the second time she’s slept in four days. And last time was for like, three hours, tops.” Fareeha let out a little sigh. Her guardian angel, always vigilant. 

Fareeha began to feel restless. Her body hurt, though she was probably on some heavy painkillers. She planted her right arm on the bed, using it to push herself back and prop herself up a bit. Lúcio moved to the side of the bed and placed a hand under her back, helping her sit up a bit more. It hurt, but was not unbearable. And it was certainly better than staring up at the ceiling light. She looked at Lúcio, a little smile cracking her lips. She shifted her gaze to Hana, and caught her staring at her arm. She quickly moved her eyes up to Fareeha’s, her cheeks turning red. 

“I…” she stuttered, but Fareeha shook her head.

“What happened to Steve?” Fareeha asked, helping Hana out of the awkward moment. 

Her eyes lit up with a fire. “That piece of shit that did this to you? He’s locked up.” She clenched her fists. “They should have just gutted him in that Talon base.” 

Fareeha hummed, staying silent for a moment, thinking on what Hana said. “Hana,” she began slowly, pausing to emphasize what she had to say was important, “how many times have I told you to watch your language?” 

Hana let out a breath she’d been holding, and Lúcio let out a tiny laugh. Hana shook her head. “How many times have I told you? You’re not my mom. And I’m 21 now! I can curse if I want to.” She crossed her arms with a ‘hmpf’. 

Fareeha managed to raise an eyebrow. “Is that a pout I see?” Hana sighed and shook her head. There was an easy silence for a few moments, the mood lightened a bit by the banter. 

Lúcio broke it first. “He wants to talk to you. Says he won’t talk to anyone else.” 

Hana scoffed. “Well then I guess he’ll be silent to his grave.” Fareeha hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t respond. Another silence came, interrupted only by Angela’s fitful sleep. Fareeha looked over to her. 

_ This is the only time it can happen.  _ Fareeha looked back to Lúcio. “Where is he?” she asked.

Lúcio raised an eyebrow, perhaps surprised that she cared. “In the cell blocks. Why?” Fareeha took a deep breath, and slid her leg to the side, letting it dangle off the edge of the bed. Her other followed, and she used her arm to turn herself so that she was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Hana asked, her voice full of concern. 

Fareeha looked back at Angela, then to Hana. “When she wakes up, there’s no way I’ll get out of here. So now’s the only time to go.”

Hana frowned. “Yea but why? Why would you talk to that monster?”

Fareeha stared down at her lap, contemplating the question. “It’s complicated...I have questions, I guess.” She pushed herself further off the bed, her feet touching the ground. She wobbled forward, and Lúcio steadied her. 

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea, Far,” said Lúcio. 

Fareeha smirked. “You can either help me, or we’ll have to fight.” She looked at her arm. The metal that capped it off. Still not ready to acknowledge it. “I can take you both.” Lúcio sighed. Fareeha looked back at Angela again. “Can one of you write a note saying I went for a walk, and that I’m feeling about as good as I could be?” Hana nodded and began to search the room for paper and something to write with. Fareeha stood, shaky, and rested her arm around Lúcio’s shoulders.

They made slow progress, Fareeha’s legs weak from not being used in almost a week. “I’ll meet you two down there,” Hana said as they moved through the door. Fareeha looked back and nodded. 

As they made their way through the halls, Fareeha quickly grew tired of explaining herself to everyone she came across. She thanked any and all gods that she didn’t come across any of her friends. Mostly just newer staff and grunts. She ignored the staring at her metal covered stub, keeping her tone as light as she could, saying cheery things like, “Just stretching the legs” and “Out for a little walk”. Lúcio intercepted most of them on her behalf, which was a relief. They accepted it, not willing to question a superior, and moved on. 

Only one person who had any ground to question her, did she come across. Zarya. The Russian stopped when she saw Fareeha, her face neutral. Fareeha stopped, too, waited for her reaction. After a pause, Zarya simply grunted and nodded her head. Fareeha nodded in return, and Zarya continued on her way. Fareeha held her composure until the Russian was past, then released a sigh of relief. She and Lúcio continued on, descending down to the cell bock.

  
They stopped just before the cells. Fareeha didn’t need to lean on Lúcio as much now, her legs a little more stable after some activity. She took a deep breath. She was ready to face him. As ready as she could ever be. She rounded the corner, stepping in front of his cell. The man who took her arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well she didn't die. I talk a big game but i dont think i could ever pull the trigger. <3 my gay birds too much.
> 
> for anyone interested, since im sure some people share my love for music, here's a link to my spotify, with playlists I have for different ships, characters, and non romantic relationships. if anyone cares to see what inspires me, that's the best way! hopefully you hear some new songs that you like if you check it out! i love spreading music :)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/hipsterpotomu5


	4. To Lose My Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I thought this was going to be three chapters. but like I said, i felt like it would be good to split up the last chapter into two shorter parts. well, as i wrote this, I found that I wanted to do that again. This felt too significant to be joined with the final bit of this fic, so the ending will be in chapter 5, perhaps with a brief epilogue. no promises though, since i've changed my plans twice already. I hope you guys like this. enjoy, and as always, feedback is appreciated.
> 
> Song is World So Cold by Three Days Grace

Angela woke to the sun shining through the window, orange and red as it neared the horizon.  _ Shit _ . She’d only meant to take a short nap, not sleep the whole day. And she had only laid down at Hana’s insistence. She rolled over, anxious to check on Fareeha. Instead she was met with Hana laying on the bed, large gum bubble popping and being reblown, as she played on a handheld.  _ Where is Fareeha? _ Angela’s heart rate spiked, and she tried to speak, but her throat was tightening. What happened? Only a choked noise escaped, enough to draw Hana’s attention. She must have seen the panicked look in Angela’s eyes, because she was off the bed and to Angela’s side in a second, speaking a mile a minute.

“It’sokFareehaisfineshewokeupandshe’sokbutshewantedtoleaveandLúciowentwithherand-”

“And you let her leave?” Angela interrupted, outraged. 

Hana shrunk back, looking down. “Well what were we supposed to do?” she asked quietly. “Pin her to the bed? You know you can’t stop her when she wants something.” She looked back up at Angela, guilt in her eyes. “I stayed here so I could explain it to you.”

Angela sighed, flopping onto her back and bringing her hands to her face. It wasn’t fair to take her anger out on Hana. She was right. Mules used the phrase ‘as stubborn as Fareeha Amari’. “You could have woken me up,” she said, finishing with an intrusive yawn. 

“You needed the sleep,” Hana replied, and damn the yawn for proving her point. Angela was still exhausted, even after a full day of sleeping. 

No point in arguing over what couldn’t be changed. “You said she’s alright?” asked Angela, as she pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Hana nodded. “She wasn’t in too much pain or anything. Lúcio helped her stand and walk. And, uh…” Hana trailed off, not really wanting to say it.

A knot formed in Angela’s stomach. “What did she say? About…” Angela found that she couldn’t bring herself to say it either. She felt too guilty. It was her fault. It was all her fault. 

“Well, she, uh...she just kind of ignored it. I don’t know what she’s thinking. She hardly looked at it.” 

Angela frowned. Fareeha had only ignored one thing in her life, the letter from her mother. Angela knew how much pain that letter had caused, how she kept it locked away for months before it finally escaped all at once. A mental breakdown for the ages. Angela swallowed. Was that the case with her arm?

“Where did she and Lúcio go?”

Hana looked down at her feet, suddenly intrigued by her shoelace. 

“Hana.” 

Hana swallowed, bringing her eyes up to meet Angela’s. “Well, she...she...shewenttotalktoSteveokpleasedon’tkillme.”

Angela remained silent, her face neutral. Slowly, she breathed in. “You don’t have to worry, Hana,” she said, her voice too calm. “I won’t kill you. I’m going to kill Fareeha.” She slid off the bed, stretched her legs, and made for the door. “I would appreciate you  coming with me to stop me from following through on that.” Hana nodded, and followed her through the door.

_ Damn it, Fareeha.  _

~~~

His cell was fairly roomy. None of the cells in the Watchpoint were small. This wasn’t a prison. And they were supposed to be the good guys. Couldn’t have prisoners in some dungeon. A bed, a toilet, and a decent looking cushioned chair sat behind a wall of bulletproof glass. Fareeha gave a light snort. His room was about as luxurious as hers. She found him not on the bed, the chair, or, thankfully, the toilet. He sat with his back against the glass, an apple in his hand. She moved closer, looking over his shoulder. He stared down at the apple, still whole. Crudely dug into the skin, perhaps with his fingernail, were the words ‘I killed her’. Fareeha gave a small laugh. “Not quite,” she said, staring at the apple just as he did. 

He showed no surprise at her presence, whether he heard he approach or that he was waiting for her. Perhaps both. “I know that,” he said quietly, not turning around. “They wouldn’t give me any paper, so I had to get creative.” Something was different. He would have said that with a smirk, maybe a wink, the other day. There was no emotion in his voice now, though. 

Fareeha looked to Lúcio. “Would you be so kind?” He nodded, but was hesitant to leave. “I’ll be fine.” He nodded, and headed off. And Fareeha was alone with the man who tortured her, only a wall of glass between them. “And what, pray tell, do you need pen and paper for?” Fareeha asked. “Arts and crafts?” she added dryly. 

This earned her a ‘huh’ from Steve. “If you’ve come to hurt me back, it’ll take more than being clever.” He paused. “No, I don’t think there’s anything you could do to hurt me.” His shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath, and he pushed himself off the glass to stand. The apple remained on the floor as he turned to face Fareeha. His eyes gave off a blank stare, and Fareeha wondered if he was really there. “I have…” he began, slowly, considering his words, “some confessions to write down.” His eyes moved from her own, to her arm, where they stayed for a few moments, to her cheek briefly, then back to her eyes. But never did he reveal any emotion. It seemed he did his best to conceal any emotion he felt.

Fareeha returned his empty stare with one of her own. She studied his eyes. Empty, drained of color. But completely different from the Talon base. “I had a feeling you’d look at me as an artist observing his completed work,” Fareeha said. 

He gave a low laugh at that. “So many responses I could offer that statement, where to begin? Perhaps I should first ask why you feel the need to lie. Then, might I postulate that you are not a finished work? No, I didn’t get quite the piece I set out to create. And I’ll finish with a question.” His eyes moved to the tattoo under her eye. A sad thought about it came across her mind, but she stored it for later. Now was not the time. “Do you think the laborers who built the pyramids looked upon them with pride? They were not slaves, no, but they were workers. They worked a gruelling job. They did what they had to to survive. They did not move giant blocks of stone all day because they enjoyed it.”

Fareeha raised an eyebrow, considering his words. “So you would have me believe that you were innocent in this? That you had to work with Talon to get by? You had to torture me? Do you have a sob story to tell me, about how your family was held hostage, that they’re probably dead now?” No malice crossed Fareeha’s voice. She knew it would do her no good. Steve wouldn’t come out all at once. She would have to be patient, let him peel himself open like an onion.

He laughed again at her questions, a more hearty laugh this time. “No,” he said, “by no means am I innocent.” He shook his head, a small grin appearing on his face, the first real emotion he’d shown. “I knew from the start you’d keep me entertained.” He paused, thinking. “As for my family...well, I killed them. So no, Talon was more of a savior, rather than a slaver.”

Or maybe he’d just cut right through. Fareeha couldn’t help but grow wide eyed at his statement. He wasn’t done, though. “I’ve always had anger issues. Most of the time it was provoked. Sometimes I’d fly off the handle for no reason.” He looked over Fareeha’s shoulder, staring into nothing, thinking of the past. “I had a wall in my apartment that I just destroyed. Any time I got mad, I’d put a few holes in it. Between the wall and my hand, i usually did enough damage to calm me down.” 

He paused, taking a deep breath. “Crissie loved me anyway. I don’t know why. But she was always there for me.”  He shook his head. “She could calm me down in an instant. Hard to do when she was sleeping, though. Can’t talk to someone when you’re asleep. Obviously…” He rubbed the knuckles on his right hand. Fareeha took notice of the many scars that graced it. Reminders of every punch. “Like I said, sometimes it’d come on for no reason. It was strong that night. I felt hatred. Towards her. For believing in me, that I could be better. Hated her for bringing a child into the world with me. I thought how she’d doomed our daughter to be just like me.” He paced back and forth a few times, stopping as his gaze found the apple. He bent over, and picked it up, studying it again. “So I killed her. I stabbed her in the throat, and the heart. And then I went to our daughter’s room and did the same. Then I went to the police and turned myself in.” He tightened his grip on the apple. “She was only eight.”

Fareeha ran a hand through her hair. There was just a touch of regret in that last statement. Only a touch. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe the man before her really was the monster everyone else saw. 

“I don’t even feel guilty for it.” He snorted. “How fucked up is that?” He shook his head. “After something like that, though...I think you just lose your soul. So no, I’m not innocent. I’m a monster.” He let the apple drop to the floor, crushing it under his heel. He moved to his bed and sat, staring blankly at the wall.

Fareeha’s mind raced. She didn’t know what to think, what to say. She felt nauseous. She asked the only thing that stuck out in her mind. “So how did you start working for Talon? Send in a résumé?” 

He shook his head. “No, they came to me. Said they had the solution to my problems. They could keep me in check, give me a way to work out my anger. I said yes. I didn’t care about the details. I should have. Three pills a day. One to make me forget, one to wipe my emotions, and one for the clever guy persona. Every day.” He shook his head again, a sad smile crossing his face. “Not a day went by where I didn’t take them. And then...well, warrant a guess.”

Fareeha tutted. “A few days ago, they didn’t give them to you. I heard you say it in the middle of your psychotic rant.”

A quiet ‘huh’ was the only response she received. He broke the silence, saying, “It all came back at once. And I was pissed. Mad at them for locking away my memories. Mad at myself for letting it happen. It was easy to take out on you. When you came to, just before your friends got to you...I think I told you that it wasn’t me. I’m not so sure about that. I don’t know where the drugs end and I start. So to answer your question...I need to write down everything. In case I forget again. I need to figure out who I am. Not who the drugs make me.” 

Something rose up inside of Fareeha. Was it...pity? He didn’t deserve pity.  _ Yes he does. No, he doesn’t. _ Fareeha found that she couldn’t decide. That disturbed her just as much as his story.  _ He doesn’t feel remorse for his actions _ , argued one part of her.  _ He was mentally unstable and never got the help he needed,  _ her other half shot back. Half. Neither of her feelings had ground on the other. 

His words interrupted her thoughts. “When I was...when I lost control, a few days ago…” He struggled for the right words. “I stopped, after you fell unconscious. For the first time in my life...I felt regret. I thought of what happened the last time I lost control. I decided I did not want to go down that path again.” A tear, one tear, made its way down his cheek. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t want you to. I don’t deserve it, after all the hurt I’ve caused.” His eyes met Fareeha’s. “I just wanted to tell you that I am sorry. For the hurt I’ve caused you and your friends.” He rose, pacing in front of his bed a few times before settling down on the floor again, back to the glass, legs splayed out in front of him. 

Fuck.

It was definitely pity she felt. She still couldn’t decide if he deserved it. She, too, took a seat, her back against the glass, legs splayed out. A mirror of him. Her thoughts raced through her mind. Only one thought stood still. She grasped it. It would help her decide what he was. Man, or monster. “What was your daughter’s name?” she asked, unsure if she’d get a response. 

For a long time, none came. Then, “Samantha. Sammie. To sound like her mother’s name.” Fareeha said nothing in return. There was another lengthy pause. It was a profound silence, in which Fareeha found herself studying him without looking at him. “She loved elephants. When she was six, I took her to a wildlife preserve. She was never happier.” 

“Tell me more,” Fareeha said. And he did. 

  
Fareeha listened, and found that with each word the monster she saw in him fade further and further from existence. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yea. i hope you all dont think that was forced or bad. I always had it in my mind that Steve was messed up. and that Fareeha wouldn't hate him. I hope i was able to make you all not hate him. I know it might be hard since i've painted him as a real bad dude throughout. but he is sorry. anyway let me know what you guys think.


	5. Happy Endings Hardest To Fake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy cow here it is. the last chapter. shorter than usual. but it's just wrapping things up. hope you all enjoy :)
> 
> song is End Credits by EDEN

When Angela finally reached the cell block, she found Fareeha sitting against the glass, mirroring the torturer. Her chin rested on her chest, and she snored lightly. All of the anger, the frustration that she had disappeared in an instant. She looked...normal. As normal as was possible. Her sleep was peaceful. So too, she noted, was Steve’s sleep. Angela walked over to Fareeha, crouching down in front of her, and gently stroked Fareeha’s good cheek. She studied Fareeha’s injured cheek. The skin graft seemed to be taking well. It would just need time to fully heal. She stared at the line where the tattoo under her eye was cut off. She’d have to get it redone at some point. 

Angela found herself trying to imagine what went through Fareeha’s head. How much she thought about what was going to change, what already did. Wondered if Fareeha realized her tattoo was ruined. Wondered if Fareeha was angry at her. Angela had a miracle cure for everything. Most things. A serum couldn’t restore over 40% of someone’s blood. A serum could bring people back from the dead, but not if they were drained. By the time her blood levels were back to normal...the arm would have been decayed beyond repair. The rot would have set in. There was...just no saving it…

Fareeha stirred, and pulled Angela from her thoughts. A tired, warm smile met Angela as she looked into Fareeha’s eyes. Angela couldn’t help but return it. “I’m supposed to be pretty mad at you for wandering off,” she said with a fake huff. “But I just can’t be mad at that smile.” 

The smile perked up even more, as Fareeha’s hand moved to Angela’s cheek. “You’ll have plenty of time to be mad at me later, ya amar.” Fareeha ran her hand through Angela’s hair. “Right now, I’m just glad to be with you again.” Angela leaned in, pressing her forehead against Fareeha’s. 

“I’m so sorry, Fareeha. For not being there for you. For not coming sooner.” A tear rolled down from Angela’s eye. 

Fareeha smiled wide and tilted her head so that their lips met, a light, loving kiss, that they held for what felt like both a blissful eternity and a dismally short time at once. Fareeha pulled back slightly, whispering onto Angela’s lips, “What do you mean, love? You were with me the whole time. You got me through the worst of it.” Tears flowed from Angela’s eyes now, and she pressed her lips harder against Fareeha’s. 

After a few minutes of silence, of simply being close, Angela shifted and stood. “Come on. It’s about time you got back in bed.” Fareeha nodded and made to stand. She motioned to put her weight on her left arm, to push herself to her feet, but she didn’t have a left arm any more, and she was falling to the floor, grunting in pain. Angela choked on the guilt that rushed to her throat. Watching Fareeha fall felt like someone had run a knife through her heart. It was her fault, she did this to her, her fault, her fault, her - 

Fareeha quickly readjusted, using her right arm to get on her knees, then to her feet. She turned to find Angela pertrified, eyes wide. She moved in close, wrapping her arm around Angela’s back and pulling her close. “I am okay, for now, Angela. I promise.” Angela wrapped her arms around Fareeha and squeezed, nodding her head as a sob escaped her lips. “Let’s go lay down, okay?” Angela nodded again, and Fareeha lightened her grip, Angela releasing hers. Fareeha gave Angela a smile, and the two headed for the exit. 

Just around the corner, Angela spotted a notebook lying on the ground with a pen on top. Fareeha saw it too, and stopped to pick it up. She turned, heading back for the cells. Angela watched as she fed it into the item port for Steve’s cell. There was no point in questioning it. Angela was sure Fareeha would tell her what they had talked about soon enough. Fareeha gave her another smile as she walked back, this one bigger and warmer than any of the previous. 

Angela didn’t question Fareeha’s actions. She was just happy that she was safe.

~~~

**One week later**

“It makes me uneasy. But...I understand what it means to you. And...to  _ him _ .”

Fareeha pulled Angela into her arms, one real, one created, newly fitted. “You know you don’t have to. It can be someone else.” 

Angela shook her head. “No. I think if anyone has the right, it is me” 

Fareeha kissed Angela on the forehead. “It’s what’s best for everyone. It’s what is deserved” 

Angela nodded. “I agree.” 

They separated, and Fareeha gazed deeply into Angela’s eyes. Stormy. Doubt and anger and relief and happiness all mixed together. She had been surprised when Angela volunteered. 

“Do you think,” Angela started slowly, “that maybe I’m doing this for the wrong reason?” 

Fareeha tilted her head to the side a bit, contemplating her answer. “Is it revenge?” Angela thought on that for a minute, and shook her head. “I think it’s closure. It’s closure for all of us.” 

Angela nodded slowly. “I suppose so.” She turned towards the hall. “Let’s go, then. Before I think on it too much.” Fareeha nodded once, placing a hand on Angela’s back as they walked down the hallway. The UN protocol overseer nodded as they got to the room. Angela stood in front of the door, took a deep breath, and entered the room. Fareeha followed, and the UN agent entered after her. Steve reclined in a lounge chair, while Saleh and Tariq stood by, eyes trained on him. 

Steve looked up at Fareeha and gave her a lopsided smile. “Oh, what’s this, a surprise party? Is it my birthday?” 

Fareeha shook her head with a chuckle. Of course he would still be joking. She looked down at him, stretched out and relaxed. “Wrong end of life, pal.” He gave her a false shocked look. He knew from the moment he was captured. There was no alternative. “So. Any last words?” He was going to get the death sentence. 

He rolled his eyes. “Had to bust it out, didn’t you?” Fareeha shrugged noncommittally, while Angela moved to the other side of the room, to a medical cart with three needles, a bottle of whiskey, and two shot glasses. Angela grabbed the bottle and glasses, and handed them to Fareeha, who accepted them with a nod. She handed one glass to Steve, and opened the whiskey, pouring some for Steve and for herself. She set the bottle down as Angela picked up the first needle. “Do you…” Steve started, unsure of himself. “Do you really think I’ll see her? And you think she’ll forgive me?” Gone was all his bravado, his confidence, his joking persona. He looked small and scared, now. 

Fareeha took a breath, and nodded. “Yes. If she stood by you through everything else, I think she would understand. She’s had time to think about it, to overcome the anger. She cared for you deeply, she understood your struggles. She sounded like a wonderful woman.” Steve nodded, his eyes fixed on something in the background. “Your family will be waiting for you in a better life, wherever that is.”  Steve grabbed something from the seat beside him, a notebook, and held it out to Fareeha. 

“It’s only right that you have it.” Fareeha nodded and accepted the notebook from him. His confession. He raised his glass, and waited for Fareeha to raise hers. She nodded to Angela, and as they downed the whiskey, Angela injected the first needle into his arm. He let out a sigh, slumping down into the lounge. “A happy ending is the hardest to fake,” he breathed, closing his eyes as the second needle was injected. And then the third. And then he was dead. 

The room was silent for a moment, and Fareeha’s mind fell to his last words. She glanced at Angela, who was checking his pulse, to make sure. She nodded to the UN personnel, who returned the nod, and exited the room. Her eyes cast downwards to her new arm. It would be a long path towards a happy ending for Fareeha. 

Somehow, though. Somehow, she’d manage it. 

~~~

**A few days later**

“For posterity”, the first page read. Not a confession but a life story. Fareeha closed the notebook, having finished reading it moments before. The story of a human. She looked upwards, wondering if he really did find his family. Fareeha meant what she said. They had talked for hours during their first talk. And the next day, and three days after that. She really believed that his wife forgave him, and that they were finally together again. Perhaps then, he got his happy ending after all. 

She felt slender arms wrap around her waist, and breathed in the scent of her lover. There was a long, profound silence as they stood there, at the window, facing the night sky. Time passed slower, and after perhaps an eternity, or maybe just a minute, Fareeha whispered, “Do you wish to read it?” 

Her doctor did not answer right away. She hummed, thinking on her answer. “Not yet. I don’t know if I am ready. One day.” Fareeha hummed at this, wrapping her arms over Angela’s at her waist. 

After another bout of peaceful silence, Angela spoke up. “You know, Schatz,” she said with a little laugh, we had to take the skin for the skin graft on your stomach from your thigh.” Fareeha turned in Angela’s embrace, curious to where she was going with this. She leaned her forehead against Angela’s as she continued. “But as they were about to take the skin for your cheek, a thought popped into my head. I stopped, and had the nurses roll you onto your side.” A shadow of a smirk crossed Angela’s mouth, while Fareeha was becoming more and more confused. “The nurses looked at me like I was crazy as I told them to take the skin from your rear. They did it anyway, but I had to explain to them why.” There is was again, the devious smirk, but this time it was out in force. “The skin from your butt was placed on your cheek. So now….it could be said that you have three buttcheeks.” 

Fareeha took a moment to soak in what Angela had just said, and burst out into laughter. She pressed her lips to Angela’s, but couldn’t stop laughing. It was infectious, and Angela was laughing as well. Fareeha ended up on the floor, unable to stand. Angela wound up next to her, and they both laughed until their stomachs and faces hurt. When the laughter had died down, Fareeha rolled on her side to look at Angela. “I love you so much,” she said, leaning over to give her a light kiss. 

  
Angela returned the favor, whispering, “I love you too” against Fareeha’s lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn im funny. plot twist, this whole fic was just to get that joke in. Not really. But i am quite proud of it. Thank you all so much for reading. The support I got on this was crazy. You all are the best <3 of course let me know what you thought of this last chapter, and stick around cus more fics are coming. I have a ton of ideas so keep an eye out :) until next time
> 
> \- Hipsterpotomu5


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